


Beauty of Whatever Kind

by writesaboutboys



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesaboutboys/pseuds/writesaboutboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn’t sure if he wants to-if he should love Harry, but it’s happening so now what. “You’re a beauty of whatever kind.” Nick mumbles into Harry’s chest and he chuckles before, “Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.” And shit- he’s a keeper.</p>
<p>Or “That story where Nick Grimshaw falls in love and he’s fucked.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bell alerting the workers that someone is entering the coffee shop rings and Nick cringes because it had been such an empty calm day and why did someone have to come and ruin it. Nick looks up and oh-maybe the day isn’t ruined. A curly haired boy walks up-slouches up-to the counter with a slightly quiet “Hullo” and Nick blushes. He fucking  _blushes_ because this kid said hi. He can’t be over 16, Nick thinks. No way, not with that face. And the kid is ordering, Nick thinks. He doesn’t say the mandatory “Coming right up, sir.” Instead he mutters a “how old are you?” and the kid looks startled (probably thinking something along the lines of “Why the hell is this old guy talking to me, I just want a coffee.”). “Uh-18,” the boys says (more like slurs, because damn he talks slow). Nick nods and the kid goes back to ordering (And no Nick doesn’t stare at the way the boy’s lips slightly pout when he says the word ‘green tea’ and ‘crumpet’). He certainly does not watch the boy’s tongue flick out of his mouth and back in at lightning speed. Because he is a  _boy_ , he’s 9-almost 10 years younger than him, for fucks sake. Except he does, quite shamelessly.

And the boy is staring at Nick expectantly and Nick forgets that, “Right, green tea and a crumpet, coming right up, sir.” The boy smiles and-dimples? No. Not fair. Someone’s fucking with him up there. As if he couldn’t deal with ogling over a fucking 18 year old without adding dimples. Nick hands the boy his tea and crumpet and he’s heading to the back of the kitchen until- “Wait, come sit with me?” the boys asks batting his eyelashes and dimples peaking into his cheeks. And he looks like he wants a fucking lollipop for being a good boy. And Nick hesitates but answers with an, “You see I have work and I would like not to get fired. So, no thank you.” And the boy’s smirk/smile/dimple type thing doesn’t even flinch because “Oh, I see it’s so busy here. Right. Work.” And damn he’s cheeky and right; Nick looks around at the empty coffee shop and internally groans because he’s going to have to sit with the kid now. And Nick extends his hand, “I’m Nick-Nick Grimshaw.” And the boy smiles (and there go those damn dimples [again](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33588801922/beauty-of-whatever-kind-part-1)) before, “Harry-Harry Styles.” And Nick quirks an eyebrow, “Styles? What are you a porn star?” And Harry does this strange howl/cackle/giggle/snicker/snort thing and it should be the most annoying thing in the world but it’s so fucking  _endearing_  Nick can hardly handle it. But Nick sits down and Harry smiles and they talk and talk and laugh and talk; about art, passions, [school](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33588801922/beauty-of-whatever-kind-part-1), food, and  _music._ And shit, if Harry’s music taste doesn’t turn him on nothing would.

And Nick thinks they may have kissed a little (he’s not entirely sure, as the whole situation seemed like one big dream/nightmare thing). And the next thing Nick knows Harry is writhing underneath him, sweaty of all things, on his worn out couch; a bottle of whatever brand alcohol lying on the floor next to them.

~~~

This is the first time Nick wakes up next to someone not needing to nurse a hangover. He still goes through the normal routine, though (one cup of tea (it’s a necessity as aUKcitizen), four Advil (because his back is killing him), one cup of coffee (he’s pretty sure he’s dead anyway what’s a little caffeine). And as he’s preparing his hangover remedy type thing, the man of the hour decides to walk into his kitchen wearing nothing except pants (which Nick is pretty sure are his). And he sits down at the kitchen table like he fucking owns the place. Nick ignores-tries to- him and finish his coffee.

It’s quiet and nice until Harry takes it upon himself to wrap his fucking arms around Nick and makes his long fucking fingers play with the waistband of Nick’s pants. And Nick is frankly kind of pissed off. He wants to yell at Harry to stop, because honestly if he starts he won’t be able to stop and he feels like he just committed a crime. Yeah, he’s 18 years old but he looks like he’s 15-16 tops and that should be wrong. But with Harry’s fingers drooping lower and his lips coming in contact with Nick’s neck, he doesn’t know. And he slides out of Harry’s grasp and mutters an “It’s too early.” So Harry huffs out a breath and flops down at the table again. And they sit and stare at each other (Harry makes faces while Nick tries not to splutter on his coffee). At some point that morning, Harry dresses and heads out the door leaving with bruised lips, a “see you later, yeah?”, and a cuppa to go.

Nick spends the whole week in his bed watching “The Bachelor” rooting for the blonde girl with fake boobs. He watched his phone light up once or twice with Harry’s name flashing across it. He didn’t answer. He doesn’t do the “let’s talk and hang out after one night stand” thing. The time comes where Nick can’t stand watching the show anymore (the blonde girl and her fake boobs got sent home, it was a tearful time for Nick). The phone rings about three times before a muffled “What?” comes through the phone.

“Why do you sound like that?” is the first thing Nick asks. And Aimee mutters out a “Because I was sleeping you utter twat, what do you want?” Nick doesn’t answer her question, instead he shakes his head at Aimee through the phone claiming that it’s late and she should be awake. And she comes back with a, “well I wasn’t but now I am so tell me why the fuck you called me.” And Nick tells her that he missed her, when in fact he saw her just the day before. “Cool pal” Aimee states. Nick frowns at the phone before mumbling “That’s not funny, I have an actual problem.” Aimee sighs before encouraging Nick to “go on.” He takes a deep breathe before, “So I slept with this kid last night and he looks fucking 16 and I think I’m in love with him.” “16, Grimmy? Fucking Jesus.” Aimee says before “How do you know you’re in love with him?” “I don’t know” Nick responds, because he doesn’t know, he’s just taking a wild guess to why his stomach flutters every time he thinks of Harry. “You slept with him once, right?” “Yes, well twice in that night, but yeah.” “Have you talked to him since?” “No.” “Well, how do you know you’re in love with him then?” “I don’t.” “Then what was this call for?” “I needed someone to talk to.” Aimee sighs again, before “Grimmy, look, talk to him. If you fucked him Saturday and it’s Sunday and you’re still thinking about him, you should probably talk to him.” Nick doesn’t respond, instead he hangs up because; he doesn’t need her advice anyway.

Except about two hours later, he realizes he does and he picks up his phone to call Harry. Harry answers with a “Huh?” and it’s one word with one syllable, and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is,  _really_. “Hello?” he asks again and his voice is raspy and rough from sleep. Nick immediately hangs up, because fucking Jesus.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry shows up at Nick’s front door about four weeks later, carrying a [fruit basket](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33589118266/title-beauty-of-whatever-kind-pairing-harry) and a smile (and really Nick should have forgotten him by now, but all he did this last month was sit around and watch game shows and root for people he knew weren’t going to win and eat ice cream and work and call Aimee and call Sam and repeat). “What’s the basket for?” Nick asks as soon as he closes the door (and yes he let Harry in). “I don’t know, I thought I should get you something.” And Nick ponders for awhile because, aw that was sweet, before “Uh-huh. That’s nice. But why are you here in the first place?” And Nick knows that probably came off hostile, but he’s trying to get  _away_  from Harry and him showing up at his doorstep is not helping. But Harry simply shrugs and adds a “You missed me,” before flopping onto Nick’s couch (the one they had sex on-twice-about a month ago).

“I missed you? What the hell makes you think I missed you?” Nick spits out of his mouth hovering over the back of the couch. And while it is true, there’s no way in bloody hell that he’s telling Harry and why the fuck does he just  _assume_  that Nick misses him. “Because you called me.” And Nick’s face flushes a deep red (it nearly [matches](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33589118266/title-beauty-of-whatever-kind-pairing-harry) his couch). “I-I didn’t call you. It was an accident. Wrong Number. Plus it was a fucking year ago.”

Harry turns around to face Nick and quirks his eyebrow. “Oh, really?” Harry asks sitting up to be face-to-face with Nick. “Yes, really.” Nick challenges. Harry’s hand is reaching up behind Nick’s head when he drags his lips up to collide with Nick’s. And it’s the battle of tongues and lips and moans and teeth and before either of them knows it, Harry has Nick flipped around on his couch. Harry’s hands are grazing Nick’s body pausing at his cock. Nick moans into Harry’s mouth and arches into his hand as he pulls lightly on Harry’s hair. And  _damn_  it’s soft and  _shit_  Nick never wants to stop touching it

and  _fuck_  he’s in deep. Harry smirks and slowly grinds his groin on Nick’s. And Nick can’t be the submissive one-not being in his own flat and being older- he  _can’t_. So he grabs Harry’s thighs and hikes them up onto his waist. He flips himself on top of Harry and grinds down. Harry whines at the new position and curves his hips up to meet Nick’s. Another ten minutes in and Harry is on his knees undoing the button on Nick’s trousers. Nick comes undone soon after, but it’s not his fault. Harry’s lips are fucking  _engulfing_  him. Nick takes the wrong initiative to look down at Harry during the process. And Nick chokes, because shit. Harry has drool trickling down his chin and his lips have swallowed him whole and his head is bobbing down and add that to his tongue licking lazily into Nick’s slit well, shit (Nick’s honestly surprised he didn’t come as soon as Harry placed his lips on him).

Harry’s back under Nick (yes, he did place himself under-what a submissive little thing) chanting something along the lines of, fuck me and he doesn’t have to tell Nick twice. He reaches over to the drawer under his coffee (and yes he has lube and condoms in his coffee table, what of it). He coats his fingers and heads in between Harry’s thighs. Nick simply grazes his finger over Harry’s hole and Harry whimpers- fucking _whimpers-_ at the idle touch. So Nick takes this as yes to sliding his finger all the way in. He starts with one, but with Harry pushing back onto his hand, it seems like four of Nick’s finger have slid in (and when he says seems like he means that he pushed them in, down to the knuckle, because Harry can fucking take it. And if he can’t then he can go). But Harry takes them all in before biting out an “I’m ready.” But Nick doesn’t respond instead he crooks his fingers just right to hit Harry’s prostate. And Harry cries out after he pushes down again and grits through his teeth a “Fuck you.” Still, Nick ignores him and continues to bend and contort his fingers in just the right position. He pulls his fingers out and when Harry sighs a breath of relief, he shoves them back in picking up speed. They stay like that until Harry physically yanks Nick’s fingers from his arse and, “Fuck.Me. Now.” It’s Nick’s turn to smirk and he rips open the condom with his teeth (Harry moans) before rolling it on and coating it. He eases himself into Harry (at a very excruciating pace, Harry thinks). But before long, Nick is completely inside Harry (engulfed by another one of this kid’s openings, Nick thinks). And Harry groans as he tries to adjust himself to the throbbing cock inside of him.

And not too long after, Nick has his final thrust before coming undone inside Harry and Harry is jacking himself off before spurting all over his and Nick’s hands and chests. Nick notices that Harry puts on this adorable little smile (which shouldn’t be that adorable considering the circumstances) when he comes along with a broken sob and his whole body arching upward.

They’re both sated on Nick’s (newly ruined) couch. “You sure you didn’t miss me?” Harry asks while playing with the hair on the back of Nick’s head (and he really shouldn’t be here, really shouldn’t. But Nick couldn’t just kick him out after that). “No, no I did not.” Nick says confidently (not really). “Well, I missed you.” And Harry nuzzles his nose into the back of Nick’s neck (how rude). “You did?”

Nick coughs to try and divert from the awkward that follows his question. And he coughs again and again until he notices that the cherub looking bastard has fallen asleep on his shoulder (And while Nick should wake him up and tell him to leave, he doesn’t. He simply wraps the blanket hanging off the back of the couch on to the sleeping body, gives Harry a little kiss on his hair, and goes to his bedroom. And it is in this bedroom, while looking up at his discolored ceiling, that Nick realizes he’s fucked).


End file.
